


An Unexpected Question

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, PWP, Who needs plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 02:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16076315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Sometimes, after a long week, Greg ties Mycroft up and plays with him for hours.





	An Unexpected Question

“Please… Greg… please…”

Greg hums self-satisfied from the distance, merely crossing his legs, otherwise unmoving. His head rests on one hand, supported by an elbow on the armrest of the plush armchair in the corner of Mycroft’s bedroom. It has a velvet upholstery, which Greg absolutely loves against his bare skin, but for now he is dressed in a complete three piece suit, down to the cufflinks and polished leather shoes. It’s all part of the deal, and he feels incredible, watching the display on the bed in front of him, smirking at every jolt Mycroft’s body gives involuntarily.

“Greg…” Mycroft whimpers, head hanging down. There is no strength left in his body, no tension. He can’t move anymore, but his body still reacts to Greg’s ministrations as if a lightning bolt shoots through it. Greg pushes the button again and Mycroft briefly jumps groaning, pulling against the ropes that keep him in place.

“Beautiful,” Greg says and hears Mycroft sigh. “Look at me, darling.”

“Can’t,” Mycroft responds, his voice hoarse from shouting and crying.

“You can,” Greg says and pushes the button again, only this time he keeps it going. The plug in Mycroft vibrates… and continues to do so. He strains against the rope, which binds his arms behind his back, against the one that’s fastened to the ceiling to keep him in place. His cock rubs against the pillows, on which his body is comfortably supported, but with his ankles tied down, he can’t shift enough to make it count. With an inhuman effort he raises his head, so that he can look at Greg, who sits there, impeccable. A strangled moan escapes Mycroft as he sees Greg like this – like he himself is usually presented to the world – the longing to touch the man rising once again in his heart.

“Good boy,” Greg praises him and turns up the speed. “Can you come for me again?”

Mycroft shakes his head. It had been two times already. He is sure he can’t. But then he sees Greg smile and he wants to be good. He wants to earn his reward. Greg never tells him how much he has to do for it, but he trusts him. Greg has never let him down – pushes just hard enough.

“I’m sure you can. You’ve been so good, so I’ll help you.”

Mycroft sucks in a breath. He hasn’t had a hand on him all evening. As Greg stands up and walks to the bed, his cock is as hard as it can be, and his breathing speeds up just knowing that Greg will touch him soon. And Greg knows it. He kneels in front of the bed and lovingly cards his hand through Mycroft’s hair, leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. Then Mycroft feels two hands wandering down his body, and fingers find his nipples, stroking them gently. Greg knows.

“Fuck!” Mycroft shouts, throws his head back. Greg chuckles and lowers his, so that he can suck on Mycroft’s neck, paint a beautiful red mark on his skin. It’s too much. It should be impossible, but he clenches down on the plug, leans into Greg’s hands and then he’s coming again, for a third time that night, spending himself on the pillow. He’s panting, tears in his eyes, body covered in sweat. But nothing of that matters. The only thing that counts is Greg. Greg’s hands on his body, his lips kissing his face, the gently whispered endearments.

“You’ve done so well sweetheart. My very good boy.”

Mycroft shouldn’t find this as satisfying as it is, but every single one of his praises soaks deep into his soul. He finds himself nodding, presses his face to Greg’s shoulder. Greg smiles as he finally draws back and stands up. Mycroft looks after him like an abandoned kitten.

“You’ve been so good for me. You deserve your reward.”

And with those words Mycroft sucks in a sharp breath. His body reacts immediately, pumping blood south, and his erection tries to fill out again. Greg sees everything. He grins as he rises to his feet and shrugs off his suit jacket. Then opens his waistcoat. Then the cufflinks. Every piece of clothing is slowly and meticulously removed. When Mycroft hears the belt buckle open, he tenses. The suit doesn‘t need a belt, but Greg wears one anyway, for effect. It unsettles Mycroft and he knows it. Mycroft squirms in his bonds, but then Greg drops the belt to the floor.

“Not tonight, pet. Next time. I promise.”

Greg slips out of his trousers, pointedly ignoring how Mycroft moans at the very thought, then presents himself in front of him, completely naked, stroking his erection slowly, teasingly. Mycroft’s mouth waters. He realises that the height of the pillows, which his head is resting on, is perfect for… He wants to move forward, but the rope that’s fastened on the ceiling holds him back, and the restraints around his ankles don’t allow him any purchase. He whines as his prize is just out of reach. Greg chuckles and strokes Mycroft’s hair.

“Eager, are we? Open up and stick your tongue out.”

Mycroft obeys. His eyes are downcast, he licks his lips once, then lets his mouth hang open, tongue out. Greg doesn’t move immediately. His cock is a mere inch below Mycroft’s mouth. Mycroft feels spit running down his tongue, dripping down, doesn’t even dare moan at the feeling. He pants, smelling Greg’s sweat as he stands close, feels the warmth of his body radiate. His own cock has filled out again, and he feels himself clench around the plug. The ropes hold. Finally, after a small eternity, Greg moves forward and places the tip of his cock on Mycroft’s tongue, paints it with his precum. Mycroft can taste the sweet, sticky liquid, his hot breath ghosting along Greg’s erection. Still he doesn’t move, even when Greg drags his cock across his tongue. Then he stills.

“Suck me,” Greg demands and Mycroft can do nothing but fulfill his order. He can merely reach the head, but his lips close around the hot flesh with gratitude. The taste and smell of Greg always makes him feel dizzy, and he feels himself pulse against the pillow as another drop of precum melts on his tongue. He worships the smooth skin until he feels Greg’s hands in his hair, and knows that they’re an unspoken command to keep still.

Mycroft opens his mouth wide, jaw slack and draws in a large breath, just before Greg pushes in for the first time. As the other settles into a gentle rhythm, Mycroft settles into a content state of mind. The glide in and out, Greg’s soft grunts, the fingers pulling at his hair, the way the ropes keep him in place… everything is perfect. He feels used and relishes it.

Then Greg pushes in deeper, his slowness the only warning Mycroft gets to draw another breath, then his nose meets Greg’s stomach, and the head of his cock closes down his throat. He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t thrash. Greg holds him down with an iron grip, just as Mycroft’s body starts to fight for another breath, and the lack of oxygen makes the world go fuzzy around the edges. There is only Greg’s cock, his hands, and the trust he places in the man. As the seconds tick by, he feels his erection waning, and just on the edge of passing out, Greg pulls out.

The air rushes into Mycroft’s body so fast, it makes his head swim. Sweet oxygen floods his blood, makes his whole body tingle. His cock fills out with a new rush of blood so suddenly he can only cry out. He still feels Greg on his tongue, can taste him, feels where he had pulled at his hair, and the combined sensations make him breathe faster, almost hyperventilate. His body sings, awash with sensation, endorphins in his blood. Then Greg’s hands are on his back, his face close to Mycroft’s. He strokes the heated skin, whispers to him.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Greg says. “Not yet. Breathe with me. Careful.”

Mycroft concentrates on Greg’s voice, but it’s hard when his cock rubs against the pillow as it fills out, the sensation too much to bear. He balances on the edge for longer than he can think, but then Greg pulls him back. Greg licks into Mycroft’s mouth, no doubt tasting himself, groaning as he feels Mycroft exhale, the tension gone.

“Good boy. You’re doing so well.”

Mycroft whimpers, beyond words. He pushes his face against Greg’s like a cat. Greg smiles against him, then – after one last kiss – he gets up and disappears from view. Mycroft feels the bed dip slightly, and then Greg is behind him, hands gliding down his back. He feels the other checking his arms against the bindings. It’s tight, but doesn’t hurt more than it’s supposed to.

“Are you alright, darling?” Greg asks nonetheless.

“Green,” Mycroft answers.

Greg puts pressure on the plug, then twists it. A finger pushes in at the rim, and he slowly circles the soft plastic, making Mycroft twitch. Then he grabs it and pushes it in and out at a leisurely pace. Mycroft is still hard, and the motion keys him up again, until Greg pulls the plug out completely and he clenches around air, suddenly so empty. He mewls unsatisfied, fingers flexing. Then Greg places the head of his cock right at the entrance, leaves it there, tantalising.

“Fuck me,” Mycroft breathes.

Greg is still, hands on Mycroft’s hip.

“Greg…”

Mycroft strains, but is held in place. He can’t move backwards because the soft bedding gives him  
no hold. He huffs in frustration.

“Do you want me to beg? Because I–”

In that moment Greg pushes in, and Mycroft’s breath leaves him in a rush. He feels sore and used from the vibrator, but Greg makes him feel full in a way that the toy could never achieve. As Greg starts moving, the pain and pleasure balance out perfectly, and he moans continuously. It feels glorious, the way he is held down, bound, fucked, used. Greg groans above him, taking his pleasure from Mycroft’s body, his hands grip tight. Mycroft hangs slack and just takes it, offers everything he can. So when Greg’s hand suddenly closes around his erection, which hadn’t had a single touch all night, he screams. He’s raw from the three times he’s already come. Raw from rubbing against the fabric. But Greg’s hand is warm and welcoming, slick with lube.

“That’s it sweetheart. Come again for me.”

Greg leans over him, just as he pushes in again and again, pulling the ropes around Mycroft’s ankles tight. Mycroft is crying, shouting, babbling nonsense, and then he comes again, for a fourth time that night. It’s not as intense, but all the better for Greg fucking him through it, for that hard slide that reminds him who he belongs to. Greg curses above him and Mycroft feels him pulse inside him, feels the rush of warmth, feels Greg’s pleasure in his bones as if it was his own.

Greg doesn’t even pull out before he removes the ropes from Mycroft’s arms. Gently he puts them down on the bed, then finally moves back and unties his legs. After the pillows are removed, Mycroft lies bonless on the soft blanket. He hisses as Greg returns and cleans him with a warm cloth, then he sees his love kneel down in front of the bed, holding out a glass of water with a straw.

“Drink,” Greg tells him and he does. The cold water is heaven for his abused throat.

Greg smiles at him, then moves out of sight again, and after a few moments straddles Mycroft’s thighs. His hands are slick with warm oil and dig into Mycroft’s tense shoulders. Mycroft can only sigh in utter bliss as the tension is massaged first out his back, then both arms and legs. Finally Greg moves up again, stroking Mycroft’s back lovingly.

“Next time it’s your turn,” Mycroft mumbles.

“Yes,” Greg replies. “I want to be on my knees in your office.”

Mycroft groans softly at the mental image of a naked Greg, contrasted against the dark carpet of his office and hears Greg chuckle.

“Approved, then?”

“Approved,” Mycroft confirms. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Mycroft sighs and sinks deeper into the mattress.

“You’re too good to me,” he muses.

“You deserve much more. It’s an honour, believe me,” Greg answers.

“Greg?”

“Yes?”

“Marry me.”

Greg stills for a second, then he breaks out into laughter. “This is how you ask me? Really?”

“I’ve never loved you more than right now, so yes, this is how I ask you. If it makes you feel any better you may tell everyone else that I asked you on top of the London Eye.”

Greg grabs Mycroft by the shoulders and turns him around, then joins their mouths in a deep kiss, which is so full of love that it almost makes Mycroft’s heart stop.

“Yes. Yes of course I’ll marry you, you bastard.”

Mycroft grins. “Your bastard.”

“My bastard forever,” Greg laughs.


End file.
